


Shake Hands Forever

by Jantique



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-16
Updated: 2011-08-16
Packaged: 2017-10-22 17:06:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jantique/pseuds/Jantique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone always loves more. Sometimes it's hard to tell who.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shake Hands Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Pre-TSbyBS. Blair is still in school. The sonnet quoted throughout is by Michael Drayton. This story is bittersweet. As is love.

        Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part.

        Nay, I have done--you get no more of me,

        And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart

        That thus so cleanly I myself can free.

 

Once upon a time, I thought Carolyn was the One. She was smart and beautiful and funny and had the added attraction of being in love with _me_. All of which were worth a second date. But how I knew it was True Love was, we had the most incredible, mind-blowing, the-Earth-moved-and-the-Moon-left-its-orbit sex. Love-making. Neither of us were virgins, so when we both felt it, we knew that this was IT.

 

Well, you live and learn. Love-making followed by marriage. Honeymoon followed by divorce. I resolved that next time--if there ever _was_ a next time--I would build a relationship first, and save the love-making for later. Have sex with everyone on the West Coast, sure, but _not_ let it screw up--or define--a relationship. Work on friendship, trust, living with someone, a bad day becoming better when he walks through the door, knowing Blair's heartbeat better than my own. Save the love-making for last.

 

I never should have said anything. Blair never did. Why did that make me think we both wanted the same thing--each other? After everything I've put him through, I couldn't wait another day. _Stupid!_ I _had_ him, in every way but one. I was greedy, I wanted more, I wanted it all. Sandburg didn't laugh in my face, or slap it, or run screaming into the night. He just said, calmly, that he needed time to evaluate our relationship. (Very calmly, if you don't count that his pulse rate achieved escape velocity. But he was _polite_.)

 

Tomorrow morning, he will get a spot on some anthropological expedition halfway around the world, where there are no phones and no damned importunate roommates who want to jump your bones. And I'm alone tonight anyway.

 

With all these damned senses, how can anyone have such a profound lack of empathy? I misinterpreted everything. I can hear his heartbeat, but I couldn't read his heart. Christ. I thought he was the One.

 

* * *

        Shake hands forever, cancel all our vows,

        And should we meet at any time again,

        Be it not seen in either of our brows

        That we one jot of former love retain.

 

Oh, man, I just can't handle this. Thought I could, you know. Mr. Open-Minded, look-at-the-person-not-the-package--that's me. I always believed you should be accepting, and not arbitrarily make people conform to someone else's rules. So if someone--male or female--made a pass and I wasn't interested, I'd just say, "Thanks, but no thanks." Hey, it's a compliment, right? No need to get insulted. No reason to break up a perfectly good friendship over it. But this was _Jim_. I never even guessed.

 

I love Jim--as a person, as a friend. I mean, I always admired the way he overcame his upbringing--his repressive childhood, the Army, all of it--to get in touch with his emotions, even if he didn't always let them show. Sure, he can still be a little anal-retentive, sometimes. But he'd touch me--just a pat on the back, or even a hug when we escaped the Crisis du Jour--and I thought, 'This is way cool; he isn't buying into the macho bullshit about how it makes him less of a man to show his feelings.' I didn't _know_ , okay? I just didn't know.

 

I don't know _how_ to deal with this. But I tried. We had dinner, and Jim said we needed to talk. Except I had some stuff I _had_ to have ready first thing in the morning. So I went to my room to work, and he watched the Jags game. When I finished, I came back out. Jim looked up. I didn't know what the expression on his face meant. Then he turned off the TV _in the middle of the game_! He patted the couch, and I sat. He just looked at me for a long moment, until I thought, 'Uh-oh. What did I do now?' And then.

 

And then he told me how he felt, and the couch tipped over, the world turned upside down, and I had to redefine all the levels of our relationship, and the meaning of friendship--all in the next ten seconds. He said that he didn't just _love_ me, he was _in love_ with me. And, I gathered, majorly in lust. Jim "All-American, Straight-as-a-Level" Ellison?! With _me_?! Obviously there were things I hadn't known, maybe hadn't wanted to know. I could see the hope and fear in his eyes, and wondered whether it was courage or desperation, that he was telling me now. I knew how much losing Carolyn had hurt him. So I told the truth--mostly. That I'd fooled around with guys a little, but it never went very far. That I'd never been especially attracted to men, but I was willing to try. (I didn't say, "But, Jim, I've never sat in a too-boring class and fantasized about a dream date with you. I've never woken up in the night with my hand on my cock, screaming your name." That was Truth, too, but I didn't say it. He's the Sentinel; I'm his GUIDE. It's my job to be there for him. My responsibility and my privilege. He needed me. I had to try.)

 

He leaned over and kissed me, just a brush of the lips at first. Then I opened my mouth and his tongue moved in, swirling around my mouth, over my teeth, my tongue, finally pushing down to check whether my tonsils had grown back. His hands ran down my back and up again. When we broke for air, Jim licked my eyelids, then twisted his tongue around the shell of my ear, pulling gently at my earrings. His hand stroked my throat down to the base of my neck. His erection pressed against my leg. I felt nothing.

 

I still had my eyes closed. I considered fantasizing, but that was too much of a lie. I leaned back and put my arms around him, which Jim took as permission to continue. He pulled my shirt up, and started pinching one nipple, running his other hand through my hair. And finally, my body started to respond. Good old reflex. The body's a slut, it will respond to anything. Anyone. I _care_ about Jim; I _wanted_ this to happen. But.

I could hear--had _just_ heard--him saying to me, "I love you, Blair Sandburg. It's not about sex. I do want to make love with you, but that's just part of it. I'm greedy; I want it all. But I'll take whatever you can give me. Please, just let me love you."

 

I opened my eyes and squirmed away. It wasn't working, and I felt _guilty_. I could give him my body--would that be enough? With all those enhanced senses, he'd know the difference--wouldn't he? I desperately needed time to think.

 

"Blair? Chief, are you okay with this? I don't want to do anything you don't want to do."

 

But he wanted me to want it. I could see the hunger in his eyes.

 

I took a deep breath. "Listen, Jim, I'm not saying yes, I'm not saying no, okay? I need time, okay? I have to think about this--the relationship. You just have to give me time to think."

 

He was breathing hard, but he nodded. "Blair, I don't want to rush you, or push you into anything. You take all the time you need." He leaned over and breathed in the smell of my hair, then stood and quickly walked upstairs. I tried to catch my breath. I knew he was listening to my breathing. I knew he would jack off, thinking of me.

 

I can't handle this.

 

* * *

        Now, at the last gasp of Love's latest breath,

        When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies,

        When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death,

        And Innocence is closing up his eyes--

        Now, if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,

        From death to life thou mightst him yet recover.

 

//I lay awake all night, torturing myself. Blair would never deliberately hurt me. But tomorrow, he would find some expedition he needed to go on, some study on the other side of the world. He'd write, regularly at first, but then the letters would taper off to a trickle, then to none. Then he'd take a job someplace hot and sunny. Cascade has always been too cold for him. I thought I could make it warm. I lost him, because I couldn't be content with what I had. And this time--I knew--there wouldn't be anyone else. Not ever again.

 

Toward morning, I must have drifted off. When I awoke, Blair was lying there beside me. My beautiful angel, my guardian spirit, my Guide. Does he know how perfect he is?//

 

Tongues licking, lips sucking, teeth nipping, hands trying to be everywhere at once, feeling smooth, rough, slick skin, sweat dripping, mingling with the other's, until smells and touch and fluids, pain and passion, combine and no one can say what came from whom. Spirits straining to make one out of two, achieving the impossible for one poignant nanosecond. The ultimate exquisite failure, falling back depleted to try again as soon as breath and sense return.

 

//It's been a week, now. A week of doing not much more than copulate, work, eat, copulate, sleep when exhausted. I know that word sounds funny--copulate--coming from me. But it's more than sex ( _it's got to be more, or why am I here?_ ), and I can't bring myself to say "making love". Good thing Jim likes to bottom. I really don't think I could. But he's so needy. He needs me. The Sentinel always has to be on guard. Jim Ellison needs to be able to let go, to have someone else take control. That would be me.//

Major Crime and minor betting pools. (Joel Taggert won. Everyone else was surprised it had taken so long.) Take-out Thai food (no tofu). Jim let Blair drive the truck (daytime only). Each change slowly became habit, achieved a normalcy of its own. It wasn't so different, really. The panther was silent.

 

//Our anniversary. One month. I want to do something special, but I don't want to smother Blair. Maybe just a special dinner. I want to buy him flowers, but I'll settle for one perfect rose. I know he doesn't feel the way I do. He _cares_ , but he's not totally enamoured the way I am. That's okay. Someone always loves more. I _will_ make him happy. Whatever it takes. I plan to spend the rest of my life on this mission.//

 

//I've been thinking about Carolyn. Jim says he was distant from her; didn't give her enough of himself. No one could say that now. He's . . . overwhelming. (But isn't that what I always wanted when I was a kid, having someone take care of me, to devote their life to me? I guess I just got used to being independent.)//

 

Graduation. Finally. Cap, gown, much cheering. Wait for job offers. Throw away everything that isn't in or around Cascade. Tell Jim they're all crap, part-time, low pay. Wait.

 

//Blair's giving up so much for me. He's already missed the Fall semester anywhere. I think he should take one of the other offers. We can move. After all, it doesn't matter where we are, as long as we're together. He's restless, on edge. That's because he has nothing to do. He'll be happier when he's teaching again. Definitely, he should take the best offer. I can get a job anywhere.//

 

//Not a choice, really. Clearly, this is part of the Sentinel-Guide connection. I can't stop being Guide any more than Jim can stop being Sentinel. (Can I?) It's not like I'm in love with--even interested in--anyone else. Why not Jim? This is the biggest commitment I've ever made in my life. Maybe that's what scares me. Could be. Jim's my best friend . . . my lover. We've lived together for years. The past six months haven't been so different. I can do this.//

 

The crime rate dropped. It occurred to Blair Sandburg that "topping" and "bottoming" had _nothing_ to do with "control". He went to a four-day conference and got picked up in the hotel bar. But he felt horribly guilty and left alone. They celebrated Hanukkah and Christmas and Kwanzaa and the Winter Solstice and every other holiday Blair could think of. Naomi visited, and gave them her blessing. So did Jim's brother Stephen. Jim didn't bother telling his father.

 

//I wouldn't die if Blair left me. But . . . I wouldn't be alive, either. This _will_ work, it has to. I think we can live happily...//

 

//Jim's so happy. I can do that, make him happy. If I left, it would destroy him.//

 

//... ever after.//

 

//How long does "ever after" last?//

 

 **END**

 


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